


Todessehnsucht

by MUNASHIKU



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Demon Ciel Phantomhive, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24288676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MUNASHIKU/pseuds/MUNASHIKU
Summary: Some demons and shinigami aren't all that different.
Relationships: Ciel Phantomhive & William T. Spears
Kudos: 19





	Todessehnsucht

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in season II where Ciel was turned into a demon. I’m feeling this hard right now and I’d rather get it out of my head now than to muse further on it and lead to more dangerous fantasies.

The gun sat heavy in his hands. It was a measure of protection for the boy when he was vulnerable, susceptible to the perils of life. Mortal. Now, it was a mocking reminder of what he could never be granted.

He sat on the swing tied to a lonely tree grown on a hill so far away from civilization, far from a place he could call home. The other swing remained empty, yet still moving to and fro with the aid of the breeze.

Sebastian was supposed to be at his side, but he ordered the demon away. Ciel was pessimistic by nature, but the newfound loathing the demon had for the boy was something his young mind wasn’t ready for. It was the demon’s fault for his current situation, and yet Ciel was being punished for it.

Over the years, it would take a toll on anyone. Indifference, to the sneers, to the apathy in those red eyes, to the lack of heart put into his servitude.

He was no longer desired, and there was no one left to desire him. Those he’d loved had died a hundred years ago. Society wouldn’t accept a kid they viewed as snobbish—times had changed and his breed of royalty wasn’t heralded as it was in the past.

He learned to eat souls. Sebastian taught him the most basic of requirements to survive. A demon didn’t need to form a contract to feed, but it did make things taste all the better when one cultivated a soul. Taste. That was something else he missed. He could no longer taste the marvels of human food. Maybe that’s because he stopped eating when it no longer gave him the tingly pleasure. He’d try every so often, but chocolate wasn’t chocolate to him anymore. The only thing that gave him such satisfaction was a soul.

He was supposed to have died on this day one hundred years ago.

Blood soiled his clothing as it dripped from his chin. Head wounds were always so messy.

They’d had an argument today. Sebastian, as apathetic as ever, didn’t seem to understand where Ciel was coming from. Even though they were together, Ciel felt more alone than ever. He wanted the demon’s attention, to which Sebastian replied that he was giving it to him, but Ciel could tell the demon was not all there. At least when he was worth something to the demon, he’d be stared at like he existed.

He was tired of feeling alone. Feeling for something that didn’t feel him back. Tired of feeling.

It was such a trivial reason to commit suicide, one might think. Perhaps it was, if it were a once or twice time event in a normal lifespan. Every single day, those feelings turned upon their master. Ripped him inside out until the will to change things left.

The swing beside him creaked.

Ciel watched as the clouds went by, made a bit difficult as his blood spilled over his eyelids from the gunshot to his forehead. He didn’t look at the shinigami who’d invited himself into his company, but his heart throbbed in longing, longing for companionship even with a creature who was naturally a demon’s nemesis.

He scowled when his heart cried out. He wanted the emotions to go away, and the shinigami’s presence made him feel. The bullet was supposed to take that away. He knew he couldn’t die from it, but… like other attempts at his life, it took away the stress most times.

But he didn’t tell the shinigami to go away.

They swung together for a while, letting the wind speak for each other. The wound on Ciel’s head closed up, repaired as though it never happened.

The shinigami understood. It was how he’d taken his life when he was a mortal. People would call it a selfish act to take one’s own life, when his presence could be beneficial to someone else.

This current century celebrated the art of putting yourself before others. How can you help others if you can’t help yourself?

William believed he was born in the wrong generation. If he were told the positive views that were being pushed by society today, he might not have killed himself and instead looked for help.

He found it distasteful that his method of dealing with overwhelming stress currently aligned with this small demon of a child.

Every shinigami took their life in one way or another. It was how they came to this existence, between the living and the dead. This job, as a reaper, gave them purpose far beyond the standard jobs employed in the human world. It was a job more important, one could argue, than being a human doctor or pastor or therapist. A reaper was to judge a soul’s history and then deliver it safely to the next life. It seemed so much less than that when one looked at how the job was actually performed. But looks weren’t everything.

Most importantly, they would need to keep demons from claiming these souls.

Shinigami were supposed to keep an eye on demons they noticed in their jurisdiction; a demon was a soul eater, after all. When it came time to harvest a man’s soul, they were shocked to find that his corpse had been empty for three days now. The most likely reason? A demon. Through a bit of investigating, that was when they discovered that Ciel was now eating souls.

The first time William had seen the demon shoot himself, he was perplexed at the situation.

The boy, kneeling next to a lifeless body, having consumed their soul, wielded the gun. William initially thought that Ciel had sensed him and was preparing to use the gun against him, even potentially knowing that it could not kill shinigami. When the boy turned the gun upon himself, William froze and watched as Ciel shot himself. The small body fell backward and head hit the ground.

The boy’s face was slick with tears and those red eyes moved to watch William’s approach.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” the boy whispered.

William stared, trying to block out the memories of his own suicide. How it had taken away all that suffering of his past life, and replaced it with a new breed of suffering, one that wouldn’t end by normal means. Day in, day out, to reap souls until the upper management believed his soul was ready to join them in heaven. William wondered if that day would ever come.

The boy coughed up blood, closing those demon eyes. Did he have so little sense of purpose in life that he truly wished to die?

His grip tightened around his death scythe. William had come here because Grell was taking too long retrieving the soul that was now devoured by Ciel.

Yes, a reminder that he was here for a reason.

He lifted up his scythe, intending on terminating the demon properly, when Sebastian made his entrance to prevent this from happening.

That was five years ago.

The demon butler could not be ordered to allow the child to die by the blade of a death scythe. That would go against their twisted contract. It would lead to only more suffering.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Ciel looking at him. No, staring at his death scythe. He knew William could see him staring. Knew that gaze was saying, ‘ _You could make it quick. Sebastian’s too far away to do anything_.’ He could. He really could. It would rid the world of one more demon.

Yet it would not clear his conscious if he were to do this. It would only be a heavy reminder that he too could end it all for himself with a swipe of his death scythe. If he killed another immortal being who wanted for eternal sleep because life had no purpose to them anymore, it would be killing himself. It might give him a real incentive to do it to himself after seeing the peaceful, laid-to-rest face of this child, terminated by a death scythe. He would no longer have to suffer, no longer have to grieve, no longer have to attempt suicide with the useless bullets of the gun that he’d used to kill himself the first time.

William averted his gaze back to the clouds. The clouds that many depict heaven surrounded by.

They could wish all they wanted to see that golden kingdom one day, whether to be rejected or accepted into its realm, but neither one of them were going to see those gates any time soon.


End file.
